Hello, Neighbor!
by lightpoint
Summary: Darth Sidious POV. Post-ROTJ, Pre-TFA. Set during 'Counting Days.' Having recently recovered his health, Darth Sidious finds himself in need of that most valuable of assets: Information. His Sith skills get a workout when he sneaks into the headquarters of his and Rey's most dangerous enemy...On Jakku, anyway.
1. Bad Fences Deserve To Be Broken

**Summary:** Having recently recovered his health, Darth Sidious finds himself in need of that most valuable of assets: Information.

His first priority is one of the most powerful factions in the Starship Graveyard; a nasty Wasteland raider army that is still squatting in the wrecked Super Star Destroyer Ravager, despite a recent defeat at the hands of a rival raider Clan.

The best way to get the information? Break into their base of operations. Cue Sidious' Sithly Skills getting a workout.

...The fact that their leader keeps trying to kidnap Rey is just a coincidence. Really.

 **Note:** This won't make much sense at all if you haven't read _Counting Days_. Really, it won't. xD

This is set a few months after Sidious moves in with Rey. At this point, she doesn't know that he's a Sith (and she definitely doesn't know what his job used to be), just that he's a quick study and isn't afraid to get his hands dirty.

For background on just what Rey did to piss off Cerebos (and get him completely obsessed with her), see _Counting Days._

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Darth Sidious tugged his scarf tighter around his face, and reminded himself that it could have been worse.

 _So much worse._

His ship could have burned up in Jakku's atmosphere, destroying his last clone and and trapping him between life and death. It could have crashed further north, well out of range of anyone besides the raider clans. It could have gone down in the middle of the Graveyard, and been picked clean by scavengers and Rebels within the year.

Granted, in the latter instance the cloning cylinder would have likely remained undiscovered; he'd ordered the chamber hermetically sealed, and then - an afterthought, a contingency spun up on an especially hectic Coruscant day - had every being who'd worked on that section of the ship killed. Any scavengers that made it to the bilge would likely have walked right past him, their greed taking them straight to the supply rooms. The discrepancy in the layout and discolored bulge in the bulkhead would have flown right over their heads. They'd have passed on by, and let him sleep.

Not Rey.

The Sith Master allowed himself a small smile. He'd only Returned in the first place because of Rey, had woken for her harsh light.

 _And even in one such other world, she'd have found me,_ he mused. He knew. _Eventually._ She'd been drawn to him, even in his slumber. Sidious had been hard-pressed to act confused when she'd described her half-mad descent into the _Gorgon's_ corpse. The compulsion to delve into the mysterious dark, to claim its secrets had been alive in her, even then.

She _would_ have found him.

But only _this_ world mattered, and hard as this life was, it was a completely viable starting position. They wouldn't starve. Nearly everyone who wound up in Niima Outpost either left as soon as possible or thought they were about to. Nobody asked too many questions, not even what passed for law enforcement. Constable Zuvio had barely given him a second glance once Rey had vouched for him. Sidious had barely needed to misdirect the Kyuzo lawman with the Force; Zuvio had far worse things to worry about than a weak, young (and therefore nonthreatening) Human rescued from a downed cargo ship of unspecified origin.

Sidious had to give Rey credit for that one. It both explained his presence _and_ the sudden upswing in the quality and quantity of parts that Rey was selling to Plutt…most of which were clearly not from any of the known vessels in the Graveyard.

 _Freighter. Retrofitted with Old Imperial Tech,_ she'd said cheerfully, smirking as Plutt turned a truly spectacular shade of red. _It's a credit mine. We're not sharing._

To his surprise, that description had given him a small pang of…not regret, exactly. Pride mingled with embarrassment. Pride, because the Empire was still remembered, and associated with strength. Embarrassment, because he'd lost it all in seconds.

 _Your overconfidence is your weakness._

The former Emperor gritted his teeth.

 _Curse that boy…_

The worst part was that Vader's whelp had been right.

Sidious would never make that mistake again.

To add insult to injury, he was selling off a shining example of Imperial engineering in pieces to a junk shop to keep himself alive. Painful, yes, but the ship would never fly again, and they needed to eat.

A rare example of true irony.

It was almost poetic…And regrettably necessary, considering the situation _outside_ the Outpost. Sidious and Rey could survive on Imperial military rations indefinitely (if uncomfortably), but Rey vanishing from Niima would draw more attention than he could readily deflect, even with the Force. His sudden appearance had caused too many problems already.

 _Such as…_

Sidious adjusted his goggles, squinting in the too-bright sun, triple-checking his position. A little caution would go far, here. He scowled behind the layer of cloth covering his nose and mouth. The sweat seeping in the sides of his makeshift goggles – the eyepieces were from a scavenged Stormtrooper helmet, yet more irony – was stinging his eyes.

 _This blasted planet…_ It was boiling hot even in the shadow of the _Ravager,_ shielded further by blackened stone and mountains of twisted metal debris, scoured smooth by decades – how many, he still wasn't sure – of wind and sand. The harsh environment necessitated heavier clothing than he was used to, despite the exhausting heat.

And so Darth Sidious was sweating in a battered shaak-leather jerkin, layered over a linen tunic. He'd patched together (with Rey's help) a set of greaves from more shaak leather, cut from seats in the _Gorgon's_ observation deck. Leather could be a tad stifling, but it made decent protection from the burns and scrapes that were a scavenger's occupational hazard. And the sun; Sidious would rather carry extra water with him than spend days recovering from heat stroke, or repeatedly slather that healing salve over any skin he exposed to the elements.  
Rey had quickly followed suit, when she saw how the tough shaak hide protected his knees and shins when they were crawling around the Graveyard. She'd found his boots herself, picking them out from a pile of stained clothing in the Niima market. A little reinforcement and patchwork, and they were perfectly suited to Jakku life. Sturdy and comfortable, if rather rough around the edges.

And fitting, for what he was doing. Sidious crouched low, ignoring the heat radiating from the warped metal underneath his feet, and trained his macrobinoculars on the three guards pacing back and forth along a rough metal catwalk welded to the side of the _Ravager._

It had taken him nearly an hour to get this close. Once Cerebos' Army had recovered from their fight with the Clan, the warlord had both tripled the guard on the perimeter and moved his base of operations deeper inside the Super Star Destroyer. Sidious had spent a standard week scouting the area, taking note of the guard rotation schedule, pinpointing the blind spots in the surveillance net. The wide area patrols were easy to dodge. Sidious, after all, had the Force. It was child's play to divert their attention to a rough spot in the earth, or reinforce that the flicker of shadow in the corner of their vision was just their minds playing tricks on them. Even better, his salvage expeditions with Rey had given him a great deal of practice moving silently through hostile, unpredictable terrain. As his health recovered, he'd been forced to draw on senses and skills that he had rarely needed after the Republic fell. That he'd barely used since he had become a Senator, even.

It made him feel _young_ again, far more than the unfamiliar strength in his fresh, pain-free body. Or the half-forgotten feeling of warm water and delicate (if rough) hands on his smooth, unscarred skin. Sidious pursed his lips. Either this body was a lot more sensitive than his last, or his scars had blunted his nerves far more than he'd realized.

 _Or I just…forgot._ Decades without a body had that effect.

The fact that Rey would be rather angry at him – or at least _extremely_ annoyed - if she discovered what he was up to was another reminder of younger days. Rey preferred caution, despite her aggressive tendencies, a point of view which Sidious entirely supported. He tended to defer to her judgement; she'd survived for over a decade in this place, after all.

But change was in the air. Sidious needed to know more about his situation than Rey could readily discover.

 _Such as what Cerebos might be planning,_ he thought, counting down the seconds to the next guard change. Rey had encountered Cerebos' raiders several times since the Road War, both inside and outside Niima. All of them had worried her, far more than she would admit. She'd glossed over what had happened in Cerebos' flagship, just mumbled something about getting onto the bridge and _'breaking some stuff'_ because she _had_ to.

Sidious had not been born yesterday. No layer of grime or dirt could hide the delicate bones of her face, or her deceptively slender figure. He wasn't terribly surprised that she'd attracted such attention. The fact that she'd managed to live alone in the Badlands for years without being carried off by some pirate was another point in her favor.

Furthermore, he'd learned, through snatches of conversation between Zuvio and Plutt (overheard when he and Rey had been waiting in line at the commissary), that the raiders would be more than happy to devour Niima Outpost if the perimeter fence went down. And their numbers appeared to be increasing again…

So a reconnaissance trip was long overdue. The last thing he wanted was for the center of civilization on Jakku to be razed to the ground.

His chances of escape would be severely compromised.

There was a flicker of movement on deck 45.

 _Finally._ Sidious clipped the macrobinoculars to his utility belt and edged carefully forward. The guards were headed for lunch in 5…4…3…

He leaped across the gap on 2, bolstered by the Force, and landed silently in a crouch on a jury-rigged balcony two decks below the patrol route. He ducked behind a storage crate next to the gaping hole in the hull, just out of sight of the beings inside; one of Cerebos' lieutenants and her three concubines…who weren't supposed to be there.

 _Kriff…_ Sidious cursed silently. The slaves' Force signatures were so weak, their minds so _broken_ that they'd barely registered when he'd scanned the area. This time of day they were usually wandering one of the TIE hangers, blank eyed and listless, or waiting in line for the baths on deck 88.

Time for Plan B.

Sidious hefted his grappling hook and aimed to the right. He reached out with his senses, stirred the smoldering resentment between the three slaves. He released the hook when the Rodian smashed a vase on the Human's head, secured it with a sharp tug, and swung towards the broken porthole further down the hull. Two seconds later he was clinging to a wire net hanging down the side of the ship - an old, half-forgotten emergency exit, not as carefully guarded as the others thanks to its position - listening intently.

Fortunately, there were no beings on the other side. Sidious bent back the wire and squeezed through the broken porthole. A short drop, and he was inside the _Ravager_ at last.

 **##########**

It was midday, and Jakku's sun had, as always, driven most reasonable beings indoors. To nearly any other spy, so many sentients knocking around in a confined space might have doomed the mission from the start. It suited Sidious' plans perfectly.

A lone stranger in a dimly lit corridor would attract far more attention than one more cloaked body trailing on the edge of a returning scouting party, or slogging behind a cluster of tired maintenance workers.

Sidious smirked. The thing about secure locations was that once you got inside, most beings assumed that you were supposed to be there.

Besides, how could he find out what the scum were up to if the place was empty? From what he'd seen, Cerebos and his lieutenants weren't the most organized of command structures. The warlord tended to keep his tactical plans to himself, dole out information in pieces to his underlings, and delegate the mundane aspects of managing an army to lesser beings. Sidious doubted he would find a datacard loaded up with the next month's itinerary just lying around in an empty stateroom. Or even one of the paper scratchpads he'd seen Rey and Plutt use. Not in an easily accessible place, anyway.

No. Sidious was there to listen.

Soldiers of any variety could get very loose-lipped when they were in their cups. And given the bleary eyes on the group coming off the latest watch, the odds of most of them heading straight to the mess hall were extremely high.

So he kept to the shadows until he heard heavy boots clomping on durasteel, growing louder each second; the upper deck watch headed for their break. Sidious stood, drew down his scarf, and let his goggles hang freely around his neck. He made sure his violently red hair was pulled out of the way – a hood would be too conspicuous, and the raiders weren't likely to recognize him by sight. _Yet._ He waited for the middle of the group to pass his hiding place, gathered the Force about him, and then slipped next to a pair of Trandoshans.

They barely glanced his way. Sidious met their eyes, projecting boredom. He nodded jerkily at the low, grunted greeting, and mimicked their slumped, rolling gait. He moved deeper into the ship, pulled along by the exhausted throng.

 **##########**

 **End Notes:**

1\. This chapter has a lot of background and musing, because Sidious doesn't have a POV narrative in Counting Days...I really wanted to show what he thinks of all of this, in a more down-to-earth way than in Edge of Night. More is coming!

2\. There are a lot more notes in my Tumblr, **onelightpoint**. The tag is **fic: hello neighbor!**

3\. Series tags for all of this crazy 'verse are in **series: the rule of two**


	2. Reunion: Part 1

**Summary:** Sidious' descent into the remains of the _Ravager_ continues. His connection to the Dark Side grows stronger.

 **Notes:** My mini-headcanon for this 'verse (thanks, to some extent, to recent revelations in the _Aftermath_ series) is that Sidious' 30 years in Chaos has made some of his Plans fade into the back of his mind...But he's still, on some level, aware of a certain degree of urgency. He has to get off the damn planet. But he can't do it blind. Or alone.

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The Super Star Destroyer _Ravager_ was nearly 12 miles long. When it was space-worthy, it had supported over 5000 turbolaser batteries, and countless varieties of heavy armament. The size of a small city, it had needed 13 fusion engine thrustors to keep it moving; the power equivalent of a small sun. It had housed thousands of troops, the best the Empire had to offer…The ones that Vader hadn't spirited away to the _Executor,_ that is.

An engineering marvel. A Bastion of power. A durasteel creature of destruction.

And now…

Covering his mouth and nose with his scarf helped keep the worst of the sand and dirt and festering chemical vapors, but did nothing to hide the smell of death.

Sidious increased his pace, narrowly avoiding the black liquid dripping from a crack in an exposed pipe overhead. The fluid – likely some form of coolant, going by the noxious, sharp smell – had soaked through the filthy rag that some enterprising soul had wrapped around the pipe. Curses echoed up and down the dim corridor as two of the raiders in front slipped in a disturbingly large pool of the stuff.

 _Yes, coolant,_ Sidious thought, wrinkling his nose. A black, flaking mass was accumulating at the edges of the pool, creeping up the bulkhead like a fungus.

Or, rather, he _hoped_ it was coolant. The lack of…remains in the corridors suggested that either the raiders or Jakku's harsh climate had cleaned the ship of the dead. He hoped that they had at least buried the fallen. Or cremated them. In uniform.

 _No…They'd have stripped the bodies. Stolen the cloth, the belt buckles, the leather boots, the..._

If he caught any being wearing a rank plaque…

Palpatine took a deep breath.

 _Focus._ He couldn't afford to lose his composure. Not now. And yet…

He wondered what her Captain would say if he - _she…no...it was a She_ \- was there.

 _Did she go down with her ship, like the Captains of the Ancient Sea?_

Possibly. After Endor…Sidious did some quick mental math.

 _The_ Ravager _would have been the last Super Star Destroyer. Or one of the last…_

He wondered, briefly, what might have happened to his own _Executor_ \- class warship, the _Eclipse._

He swallowed. The realization nearly made him stumble.

 _I – I don't know._

And he _should_ know. It had been...It had been _needed…_

 _Stop it._

Chaos had not been what he'd thought. Then again, it was _Chaos._ It had probably taken immense pleasure in defying his expectations. In mocking him. The moment the pain ended, his twisted body whispering away to nothing in the reactor core, it had been all that he could do to pull his spirit back together.

 _Rage. Determination. And…_

And he'd _needed_ to do it.

A shudder racked his body, and he let out a muffled gasp as one of the rough beings behind him shoved him out of the way. He barely caught himself before he fell.

 _I CAN'T DIE YET._

So he hadn't.

And now…

 _Focus. Information. You need it._

The black maw of his memory would have to wait.

Darth Sidious righted himself and darted back into the crowd, falling easily into the exhausted swagger of the watchmen. He bared his teeth and grinned at the Weequay on his left, the one who'd shoved him. The Sith's eyes snapped with warning.

The alien backed off, lifting his arms in surprised apology and stumbling back a few paces. Sidious' grin broadened, and he strode closer to the front.

He didn't need the _Eclipse._ Not here.

Sidious gathered his will, and focused on the present. He'd recover his memory. He had to. And it was no time for self-indulgent fantasies. Not even…His jaw clenched. Not even both Skywalkers broken and bleeding at the foot of his throne. _Begging…_

 _Focus!_ Vader was dead…and possibly his son as well.

 _And who knew what else..._

 _No one_ in Niima had been able to give him a straight answer about how much time had passed since the fiasco at Endor.

Of course, it _was_ possible that the locals hadn't found out about Endor until long after the fact…Jakku was a world that the Galaxy in general liked to pretend didn't exist.

The only thing that anyone seemed to be sure of was that the Empire was, for all intents and purposes, dead, and the corpse mutilated beyond all recognition. After patching together pieces of conversation from the junk dealers, spice smugglers, and the occasional bounty hunter that wandered in and out of the Outpost, Sidious had constructed a picture of dueling factions, of Grand Admirals turning on Moffs, of the Rebellion whittling away at the edges until centralized command was a thing of the past.

Yes, there was a Remnant, of sorts, but the Rebellion had come out on top, christened itself the New Republic, and commenced making nice with as many systems as possible.

Not that such things had much of an impact on the day-to-day on Jakku.

Sidious winced as an overhead light flickered, and then died.

Given the rate of decay of the insides of the _Ravager,_ he estimated that at least three decades had passed since his original body had been destroyed. Unkar Plutt, he was sure, had a more _exact_ number. The junk dealer kept general track of the days and seasons, after all, to manage the offworld supply lines. Which meant that he _should_ know the Standard run of years.

Sidious just hadn't been able to find a way to ask without raising suspicion. _'What year is it?'_ was nearly guaranteed to raise a few eyebrows, no matter where he found himself.

 _They might not even be using the same dating system…_

Rey could not tell him much. Her knowledge of the universe was all about _survival,_ on the tools of her trade. He wasn't even sure if she could _read…_ Beyond her blueprints and charts, anyway.

He'd need to change that.

As for less conventional sources of information…Rey tended to avoid the rowdy fireside gatherings, held in the Outpost when there were more offworlders than usual out and about. They'd loll about, talking, gambling, trading, and telling stories, each more outlandish than the last.

 _Waste of time,_ she'd snapped, the first time he'd asked about it, hoping for a new (if unlikely) source of information. There was often truth to be found in wild tales…

Once, he'd hung back on the edge of town, watching the fire near the bunkhouse climb high, the roar nearly drowning out the rising din of three different languages, and the clatter of pots and hard rations. She'd tapped his shoulder and, when he'd continued to watch, walked away to their speeder. He remembered her face, gone sharp and still. _Fairy tales. For little kids. I need to...We need to get home. Are you coming?_ He'd nodded quickly and followed, noting the change in her voice.  
He'd only gotten her to stay once, a few weeks after he'd grown well enough to come into town. A sandstorm had stranded both of them in Niima for the night, along with a half-dozen annoyed spacers and the usual mix of Plutt's scavengers and goons. Sidious was sure after a half hour of being crushed shoulder-to-shoulder with beings of several species, each exuding their own unique stink, that she would have much rather faced the sandstorm. The Sith was inclined to agree, especially when one or two of the locals got curious.

He'd stayed at her side, wary, when an old woman and her husband stepped up to their bench and took him apart with their eyes. Rey smiled coldly at their greeting, and squeezed closer to Sidious on the bench.

"This will be over soon," she'd said, leaning close so that he could hear her over the roar of the storm.

Sidious had watched her carefully, curious about how she behaved around other beings. And the way her spine had tightened when the old couple moved to sit across from them…

 _That seat's taken,_ he'd said, and lifted his feet up onto the empty spot on the bench. The woman had opened her mouth, but quickly shut it as his gaze pierced her. The pair had moved on, and found a spot on the floor next to a cluster of ragged humans passing a flask around. He could smell it from across the tent.

Rey had relaxed, just a little.

There was a story there, he knew. He'd made a mental note to ask her later.

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 **Notes 2:**

1\. Yes...I'm kind of doing backflips in light of the _Aftermath_ Trilogy stuff.  
2\. This means things will likely get reallllllly trippy. And Sidious NEEDS to remember. The fate of the Galaxy is at stake!  
3\. Two more parts left. This is kinda short, and another multi-parter because of pacing. And it looks like the title has more meaning than the original, casual, worldbuilding-y plan. IT WAS FATE. THERE ARE NO COINCIDENCES. xD  
4\. Trying to finish Part 2 today. Hopefully it'll happen.


	3. Reunion: Part 2

**Summary:** Sidious works his way into the _Ravager,_ and touches the Dark Side. It is...interesting.

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Sidious faced his first decision five minutes later, when a third of the group split off down a corridor with mostly-functioning overhead lighting. Going off the Aurebesh scrawled on the walls, the clothing hanging from the ceiling, and the high-pitched babble of younglings of several species, Sidious guessed that it was one of the living areas. His suspicions were confirmed when a human child jumped out from behind a crate and attached himself to one of the guards' legs. The red-faced human woman scooped the youngling up by his ankle and tossed him into the air, to his shrieking glee.

Several more guards followed suit. The talk changed to rumbling variations on what they were having for dinner tonight, if their mates would be _receptive,_ and how everyone needed to pipe the hell down.

Sidious considered following them in. Everyone was tired, and happy to be done for the day. Tongues would be looser, frustrations high, and fatigue would have blunted vigilance. But... Sidious looked again. The corridor and connecting rooms seemed to be divided into several smaller living areas.

 _Family units…_

…Not worth the risk. A stranger would stand out far more than was comfortable. He ducked his head and plodded off after the lead group, keeping his ears open and his mouth shut.

Soon the sharp smell of cooking food and the bright clamor of younglings faded into the distance. Silence reigned, save for the creak of the old ship's bones. Even their footsteps on the scratched durasteel deck seemed oddly muffled.

Given the odds of survival in the Graveyard, it stood to reason that large segments of the ship would be empty. There simply weren't enough raiders to watch the whole ship, even including their mates, younglings, and slaves, a fact that Sidious fully intended to use to his advantage.

Thus, the vast majority of the areas that the guards were traversing were completely silent, empty save for the hollow echoes of the dead ship. The guards walked faster in those places, and kept their heads down, only looking up as needed to keep their footing.

The fact that most of the dead zones were completely devoid of light did not help.

It made sense…The sealed compartments were completely cut off from all natural light. The only light, indeed, was what the raiders brought with them… And in a lot of ways, the red beads of illumination made it worse. Strange shapes loomed on the edge of their field of vision. Odd breaths of stale air tugged at headscarves and cloaks. And, sometimes, foul smells welled up from nowhere. Everyone sped up, then, clambering through the hatches as though hell itself was breathing down their necks.

ven Sidious stayed alert. It wasn't all tricks of the mind and sight. Thousands of men and women had died here, in the skies above Jakku, and later, crushed, suffocated, bleeding, screaming in the wreckage below.

The Dark Side was strong, here.

Most of the scavengers avoided the subject. But the Graveyard was very aptly named.

The children of Jakku - the _grave robbers_ \- had their own stories, their own superstitions. Rey had mentioned a few, offhandedly. For all her protestations that she did not believe in Luck, she was awfully careful to count the stones lining the foyer outside certain wrecks.

He'd need to ask her about it later. The Dark Side of the Force held many mysteries. Legends occasionally held pieces of truth.

 _Take it._

 _A blood-red mask rested in his hands. His skin stung, despite the layers of scar tissue._

Sidious clenched his teeth.

 _Focus,_ he thought savagely. He had an entire world of empty sky and dead land. He had time to stand in the battle-blasted wastes and recover himself. Just not _now._

Fortunately the rough clamor of the raiders' minds spiked. The corridors brightened slightly, and the smell of cooking meat wafted through the air. Everyone – Sidious included – increased their pace. The cloud of despair lifted at the thought of food and ale and a moment of rest and safety. Sidious grinned along with them, said something about being hungry enough to eat a bantha, to general hilarity.

They emerged shortly into a mostly-intact mess hall. Apparently the kitchen had been in good enough shape to repair the ovens and fry stations, because the smell of grease and spiced smoke filled the air. It was thick enough to turn Palpatine's stomach, in another life. Sidious fell into line and made the terrified Twi'lek behind the counter give him a double serving of stew. He clomped off to the tables without a thank-you, and sat shoulder-to shoulder with the off-shift guards.

They were just as talkative as he'd hoped.

 **##########**

Soon, he learned that Cerebos' private quarters were in an observation deck in the residential sector. Once he finished his stew, Sidious once again attached himself to another group of raiders.

A risk, certainly. _These_ guards set apart in the mess hall, had the freshest stew.

The Royal guard, they called themselves.

It was soft duty. Good duty. And today was, apparently, harem duty for this particular group. All of them were nervous.

Their minds buzzed with fear over both the consequences of failure and the results of success. Given what Sidious knew of similar societal setups on worlds even more backward than Jakku, he didn't blame them.

Sidious grimaced. Too risky, then, to sneak in as a guard. And the harem seemed to be made up entirely of humanoid females…

 _Wait._

If the deck layout of the _Ravager_ was anything like the _Eclipse,_ there would be a network of tunnels running above under and around the top tier residential areas. The hidden corridors had been used to carry messages, to deliver food, and in general to see to the needs of the Imperial Court. As Emperor, Sidious had used them on several occasions when he felt the need to gather information on his own.

Sometimes if you wanted a job done right, you had to do it yourself.

If his reconnaissance was accurate, Cerebos' quarters would be nested right in the middle of the labyrinth of tunnels. And it was entirely possible that the warlord had no idea that they were there.

Like it or not, it was probably his best bet. He waited until the guards rounded the corner, and then sidestepped down an empty corridor.

It was time to see how much he remembered.

 **##########**

Sidious got another surprise as he slid into the antechamber hidden behind a nearly invisible panel. The raiders had _found_ it. The entryway to the primary passage was ajar, revealing a jagged line of absolute darkness beyond.

And yet…they'd left it alone, save for a message carved into the bulkhead with a blowtorch.

 _DANGER. KEEP OUT._

Though the seven bodies strewn across the deck got the point across just fine.

Sidious knelt silently by the shredded face of a long-dead Twi'lek, prodded the arm hanging onto its shoulder by a thread of dry sinew. Fingernails were embedded in the alien's eye sockets. Long, dark tracks ran down the desiccated throat. He glanced at the Twi'lek's hands. They were twisted and broken, stripped to the bone.

 _Self-inflicted…_

The Twi'lek had ripped his own face apart.

The other six had clearly died the same way…Self-inflicted wounds, or at the hands of their comrades. The three humans hanging over the lip of the door were in worse shape. They were piled atop each other, looking as though they had died trying to escape. The middle human's teeth were still buried in the front runner's neck.

The rear human was…From the way he was lying, Sidious rather suspected that the dead man was missing his legs.

Sidious paused, and considered.  
The Dark Side was strong, here. But it was the fastest way to Cerebos' chambers. And unguarded. He stood in the passage, senses on fire, breathing rust and stale air.

 _Remember…_

Sidious stepped over the bodies. Unbidden, the words of an old witch swam up from his subconscious.

 _Not yours!_ She'd screeched from atop sharp rocks, rain and lead streaking her mad eyes. _It is, it is, and it will be, it was…_

She'd leapt then, rather than accept the binding, the drugged sleep in the hold of his ship.

One more specimen for Plagueis. One more creature for the dissection table.

Sidious didn't blame her. To this day he had nothing but grudging respect for the woman, despite her failure to control the sorcery, to be consumed by it, a mere puppet of the dark side. An abnegation of self that Plagueis had had nothing but contempt for.

Sidious shared that belief, for the most part.

However, the raw fury of Bogan was a powerful ally, at least when it was on your side.

 _May the Force be with you,_ he thought, with a small smirk. The prayer of Jedi and sorcerers alike.

 _Or sorceresses…_

 _Could she…_

Sidious frowned. He'd often wondered about the inescapable fact that sorcery was largely dominated by humanoid females. He'd speculated that the natural power imbalance between the sexes had contributed to the disgusting misandry among the witch clans… Nightbrothers had their own gifts, certainly, but he had only observed the innate gift for sorcery in one or two over the decades of his dealings with them.

 _How are they now?_

The Clone Wars had nearly eradicated the breed. Perhaps Mother Tenzin (if she'd lived long enough) and her ilk had managed to spawn a new generation.

He winced. Such a thing would not be easy. Even with the birth of multiples, even with a disproportionate number of female births... Surrogacy, perhaps? _No, they lack the technology…_

 _Lacked._

For all he knew, they had a full reproduction lab, endless volunteers, and the backing of a military faction.

 _Their power is rooted in Life… The Dark Side of the Living Force…_

Sidious shook himself.

Such speculation served no purpose. That was the point of this little excursion after all. To assess what passed for the political (and military situation) on Jakku, and to see if the raiders had more information about the galaxy at large.

Every Super Star Destroyer had extensive logs, after all. It was possible, if unlikely, that _something_ had survived.

A transmitter. Of receiver. A datalink… _Anything._

Anything at all would help. At least until he could get the _Gorgon's_ data core up and running.

He needed Rey's help for that. In the meantime, the risk was more than worth it.

Sidious took one step forward, and immediately relaxed. The Dark Side knew him, danced with old truth inside his mind. Memories, of all they had shared. The promise of the future.

And a warning.

 _Your apprentice._

 _…_ _Vader?_

Drifting amusement.

Sidious' his feet carried him forward.

 _Choose your allies with care, Lord Sidious._

A whisper in his ear. Soft, familiar breath that he felt against his skin every morning.

 _Choose carefully,_ the Darkness said.

With Rey's voice.

A shift in the air. The presence around him grew, awash in emotion, old memories and dreams. The visions took him for the first time since his awakening. They locked him in their grip, held him steady, and bade him watch.

 _The smell of his own flesh cooking as he waited,_ waited _for the boy to decide._

 _Standing on the comforting, sterile deck of the_ Eclipse, _reaching ever-outward with all of his senses. The Galaxy lay before him, a glittering carpet of stars and life._

 _Vader's roar echoing in his mind as blue lightning slid like water down the reactor shaft._

 _A rough-faced man in a white tunic and red cloak stared at a smashed chessboard and the two pieces left standing, the Imperator and… Sidious squinted. Was at the Outcast, or the Queen? The enemy king lay on its back, surrounded by broken pieces. A winning game._

Sidious' heart pounded as the vision collapsed in on itself, shredded by the bright roar of _potential._

 _He stood in a foul-smelling cargo hold, patiently waiting for the cluster of scrabbling minds to come out to him._

 _He crouched in the sand and traced a grid with a stick under Rey's watchful eye._

 _The glorious smell of spiced shaak and blossom wine filled his nostrils. Ray sat across from him in a puddle of golden light, staring at the silverware with confusion. Her face was clean, save for a light touch of cosmetics. It was nearly impossible to look away._

 _A graying, still beautiful woman stood silent in a Senate pod, her back straight despite the betrayal scrawled across her thin face._

 _The Senate dissolved into chaos as Bail Organa's voice faded._

Sidious fell back into the present. He was alone in the dark again, standing in a forgotten, dead chamber, surrounded by silence and dust. He clenched his fists and took several deep, steadying breaths, willing his mind to quiet, resisting the urge to throw himself back into the Force and chase that last vision.

His first glimpse of the outside world.

He smiled. The resentment, the pettiness, the sheer _hate_ choking the New Republic Senate was nearly as strong it had been in the last days of the Clone Wars.

 _The smugness…The complacency._ Was _that_ the best that the Rebels could come up with?

The fact that _Leia Organa_ was the target of all that hate was the icing on the cake.

And yet…It wasn't enough. Sidious wrestled down the frustration - _the helplessness_ \- welling up inside him.

He needed to know more.

"Tell me," he said aloud.

The darkness stole his voice.


	4. Valuable Intel: Part 1

**Summary:** Darth Sidious ventures deeper into the _Ravager._

 **Authors Note:** Sorry sorry sorry for the huge update gap! Life got in the way, as it often does...Enjoy the chapter!

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Sidious stood, waiting, until the light filtering into the corridor behind him began to fade. But it seemed the Force was done with him for the moment. He withdrew his senses and sealed the hatch behind him, killing his wrist light as soon as he clicked the lock in place. An early conversation with Rey popped into his head. An early _lesson,_ to be more accurate.

Rey had picked a day at the end of the week after they returned from Niima, their trading finished for a time. She had begun marking the day off for rest and recovery soon after his arrival; they had a reliable source of tradable parts, and therefore room to breathe. She was planning to take him further into the Graveyard to explore the wrecks…and to help her map out the Gorgon. But she wanted to teach him a few things first.

Such as ' _getting to know the dark_.' Sidious had kept a straight face and followed her into the sub hold of the _Hellhound II_. She stood him in the center of the room and turned off their wrist lights. Then she murmured an apology and sealed the hatch. Darkness fell. Well, not so much _fell_ as asserted its proper place in the dead tank. Bereft of all light, natural or otherwise, he might as well have been thrown into a vat of oil.

There was nothing for his weeks-old eyes to work with, and a surprisingly large part of his mind had begun objecting stridently.

 _Such a human thing to do…_

But Darth Sidious had drifted in the Void, lost to sight, sound, and sanity for three decades. Natural darkness was downright comforting in comparison. It was an old friend come to stand by him in trying times.

He'd watched her with other eyes instead, and caught a sudden flare of memory.

 _A skinny little girl in a grubby tunic slid down the rusted, slanted deck of a wrecked ship, absolute darkness swallowing her. And then cowering inside a sealed compartment, pain wracking her small form, her mind tumbling into raw panic._

 _It was as if the world had been erased._

No rescue for her, of course. She'd found calm in the forgotten pit, and slowly, painfully, found her bearings and climbed to safety. The other scavengers had looked at her strangely for weeks. People rarely returned if they slipped below the dark line – the part of the ship closed off to natural light, named for the 'water line' on worlds with oceans – without a lantern.

Rey wanted to teach him how to deal with it, in case it happened to him.

 _Sorry,_ she'd whispered when she closed the door. _But if you're going to be heading out with me… You should feel this._

He'd nodded solemnly, and made a show of calming his breathing. He followed her voice to the door, and then around the room, feeling ahead of him with his arms and mapping the discovered space out in his mind. It was a good idea, and he'd told her so when she declared him ready and they tramped back upstairs for dinner.

 _I'm sorry I scared you,_ she'd said. _But it's dangerous out there, and I don't want to – I don't want you to get lost if we get separated._

The spark of admiration he had for her had grown a little larger that day.

But he had other ways of finding his way in the Dark. Sidious' body and mind were as one when he strode fearlessly into the dead passage. The Force guided him, helped him step around the wreckage and avoid the dried husks of his subjects.

He located a ventilation shaft a few minutes later, and from there on it was child's play to crawl silently through the tunnels, locate the appropriate corridor, and drop silently to the deck. He slipped easily into the shadows and took a moment to assess the situation.

Unlike the crew's barracks, Cerebos' inner sanctum was nearly clear of debris. The deck gleamed like polished obsidian, cracks and scorch marks covered with soft, finely woven carpet. Much of the overhead metal had also been ripped out and replaced by rich cloth, soft, delicate lengths of shimmersilk, and mismatched, tinkling lamps. Melted bulkheads had been covered with elaborate tapestries, mirrors, and scorched, slanting artwork. Several durasteel hatches had been completely removed, and replaced with drifting shimmersilk curtains.

 _Scavenged,_ Sidious thought, waiting for a cluster of lightly clad humanoid females to pass him by. _Or spoils..._ Jakku being, among other things, a low-end smuggler's hub, there were times when vessels carrying luxury goods to the Outer Rim stopped by for spare parts or new crew. Such vulnerable newcomers tended to 'lose track' of at least some of their cargo during their stopovers.

The Sith stepped out of the shadows the second the group vanished around the corner. He straightened his back and lowered his hood, smoothing his hair into some semblance of order. Covering up too much here would draw more attention than not. He could subtly divert attention from his 'strange human hair color' than from the heavy hood and goggles. He adopted a long, confident stride, becoming a raider who was enjoying his moment in this most important of places.

It soon became clear that some effort was being taken to keep the place in order. Two minutes in Sidious spotted a pair of Twi'leks cleaning the deck with some sort of dry chemical.

 _That explains why it smells like a med bay in here..._ Sidious held his breath as he stepped through the soup of chemicals. His nose wrinkled further as he passed a side chamber. Cheap perfume -– some manufactured floral scent, likely concocted by someone who had never seen a flower, much less smelled one - filled the corridor as movement stirred behind the semitransparent curtains, the sweet scent mixing in with the acrid chemicals. Sidious was suddenly, powerfully, reminded of a low-end Nabooian embalming lab. Dozens of bodies lined up, waiting under plastic tarps, drenched in perfume to hide the stench of decay.

It was actually quite fitting.

Sidious' lip curled. Suddenly, he couldn't stand to walk the halls any longer. He was in the right place, certainly -– the rich surroundings, the occupants, and the increased guard presence alone told him that –- but he didn't know exactly where Cerebos' quarters were. And wandering these halls aimlessly, surrounded by this _desecration..._ He gathered the Force around him and leapt up into the ceiling, past the drifting silk and glowing lights, and settled in for the long haul, perching like a cliff bat tracking his prey.

Looking down was like looking into a dream, the light softened into a glow, the rosy silk a film over the broken ship. The former Emperor gritted his teeth. It was just so…wrong. The unadorned, efficient beauty of the passageways was marred with greed, twisted by pointless vice. The softened corners and tinkling lights spat in the face of the men and women who had died here, fighting to the end, loyal to the last…

He didn't have to imagine what the _Ravager's_ captain would think.

An hour or so later a sudden surge of volume in the corridors – raised voices, impatient, heavy footfalls –drew him down from his perch for a closer look.

A cluster of Cerebos' lieutenants tramped up the corridor. All had removed their hoods, masks, and helmets, and were trying their very best to not look intimidated by the barbaric display of Wasteland wealth.

 _No weapons, either,_ Sidious noted, with a sharp grin.

He lay on his belly along a broken girder a foot or so above the silk screen, trying to catch what they were saying. Thanks to Rey and frequent trips to Niima, his Huttese had gotten considerably better since his awakening. It helped him now with the gnashing, jarring mix of Huttese and Basic that the raiders favored. Rey had noted his distaste for the language early on, and have therefore taken every opportunity to teach him. _Nasty but necessary_ , she'd said.

A truly pragmatic girl.

Fortunately, none of the raiders had an especially extensive vocabulary in either language, and were not bothering to keep their voices down. Sidious watched closely as numerous beings appeared along the sides of the corridor, emerging from side passages and the little screened-off rooms, curious and fearful of the sudden, rough intrusion.

The Sith soon gleaned enough to realize that they were headed to see their leader. He rose, careful not to disturb the silk, and followed, moving from beam to beam, keeping the group in sight.


End file.
